Spring Teen Anthology 2015
Remember
Ella V.N.
Do you remember me?
Once a pretty little girl
Dumb with innocence,
In love with a demon
In a little black dress.
Do you remember me?
My eyes once shone
With the dark of death,
For that demon inside me
Had poison on its breath.
Do you remember me?
The demon took over,
Gave my body to hell.
It drowned me in its
Blood-stained love,
And down and down
We fell.
Do you remember me?
The demon was its own demise,
Pushed me so hard I broke the skies.
I was dumb but you were too,
And somehow you didn’t realize
That if I died, you did too.
Oh demon, I know you remember me,
For there’s a piece of you
In my soul,
Just as there’s a piece
Of me
In you.
Take off your Mask
By Ella V.N.
Take off your mask,
Shed your disguise.
Take off your shades
And look into my eyes.
What do you see there?
Do you see my real story,
Or just my pretty lies?
Don’t believe what you see
Until you see it all.
Because if you see the real me,
Down and down
And down you’ll fall.
Shield your eyes,
Like I do mine,
For there’s something inside me
That I don’t want you to see.
There’s someone inside me
That I don’t want to be.
Put on your mask,
Don your disguise.
Put on your shades,
And look away from my eyes.
The person in there
Is not for you to see,
Not for me to be.
Tests
By Miranda W.
They challenge us.
But they kill us.
They teach students
to base their
brilliance on a number.
A number!
Albert Einstein was
Brilliant, but his IQ
was low.
You can’t force
children to be
robots. We want to
be kings and queens,
doctors and lawyers,
writers and poets,
singers and songwriters
not living in a dead end
world!
If you want to test
a child’s brilliance, watch
them, not test them.
Monsters are real, and
ghosts are real too.
They live inside us,
and sometimes,
they win.
This world
by Tracy K.
Imagine this world of cries, laughs and happiness
people complaining, quarreling, fighting
could one bear to live in it
on the other side
from the bottom
to the root
struggling to grow
among nature
this world, the insects gather for survival
the land full of dust and scattered plants
the grass grows to hide the trash
the sun pierces the skin like coal
and when done
the sky takes it’s own
at the perfect time to the human mind
to a light buzz in your head
the humans in the lonely dark
boom boom
it goes inside beating faster and faster
when exhausted, it relaxes.
Street Kids
By Tracy K.
For the day light appearance
determine one’s luck for the day
They stand at the piercing sun, heating
down on them, almost turning them to coal
The sweat pours as if it were a river,
when needed for a drink vanishes.
They push from door to door
But are always spat at
They beg at the legs of others
and are looked upon like dust
They turn on thrown foods as their meal,
At times they turn and coil for that meal
too rotten to even give a try.
A wish for death comes.
As the sun gives its last show for the day
Their nightmares arise
The thrown plastic recycle, as their beds
The trash bins, as their shelter
The torn clothes, for cover
All they wish for is a rest of mind
As the others treasure their wealth.
The Soldier
By Tracy K.
Many did call it the ride to death.
While we cracked the entrance
Only the deep anger of guns
Bullets bursting to heads
Enemy firing over, all time
If it were one’s pleasure.
The dust for coverage,
Men come out of trenches
up to thighs in mud.
The boys sing the old lie
Us boys hitting man in the stomach.
Many lost touch with souls
Like a child taking his first steps.
when tired hits hard for the last
We watch the white eyes vanish
As others cried why not me.
The flowers still spreading their seeds
Hoping to grow new roots.
The body
Tracy K.
The trees blow air through the lungs
for the lungs make use of it.
The trees wingle, the remarkable birds sing
A soft sound to human’s mind.
At rest, the enemy knocks at its door,
It feels beaten to wounds.
For a day the shadow disappears
The treasure of the world vapors.
It got no roots, no wings
From side to top, top to bottom
It relies on the ones shadow.
It says words can mean to say,
Action can mean to tender.
Its feeling inside tends to bond inside,
The love inside tends to stick inside
Expressions and proves mean less
Its gathered inside mean more.
Infinity in one night
By Hayden G.F.K
Do you remember the late nights
driving around the under the street lights
windows down
shops deserted like a ghost town
Dressing up for the science fiction double feature
Roaming the streets like a disastrous creature
sitting at the 24 hour diner
My body had never felt lighter
Climbing the fire escape of pompeii place
In the moonlight i could barely see your face
sitting on a rooftop
Across the street from the thrift shop
Yelling at the cars that went by
Neither of us asked why
We did monthly
Didn’t go home until it got sunny
Who cared if we destroyed our lives
Out all night until the sun arrives
i loved every part
i miss it with all my heart
At the touch of midnight
Began an infinity in one night
The Tree House Behind My House
Hayden G.F.K
If you dive down EdgerCreek street
And stop at the house on your right
Before the pavement dead ends into the dark and shadowy forest
The final house on your right
The windows are boarded up with cheap home depot plywood
The door is locked tight with a padlock
Its oak door sealed never to open again
Not since the summer of ‘93
Behind the cheap red-stained wood gates
Down the cracked blacktop driveway
With plants peeking through the cracks
Like love blossoming between the tears in shattered glass heart
Behind the brown bricked garage
Is a tall oak tree
Rocketing into the clouds
It’s dying limbs sprouting into the sky
Stormy black clouds brewing above
Above the dying oak tree
Leaves fallen victim to disease
Scattered across the brown grass
The tree is not important
But rather what rests 9 feet above the withering grass
A wooden structure built
A lasting gift from father to son
Is a 6x8x7ft room
With open windows and weathered walls
A tattered rope ladder ripped by the wind and caught in a bush
The hand built house became a home for squirrels and chipmunks
The tree house hasn’t been touched in years
But it’s a grim reminder
To what happened
In the summer of ‘93
A decaying hazard to some
But to others it’s a memorial
A tribute
To a 16 year old boy
Whose days were grasped and cut short
By the shaky bony hands of death
A fatal reminder
Of what happened
In the summer of ‘93
Valentine’s Day Poem
By Jesse G.
roses are red
violets are blue
my heart skips a beat
when i think of you.
ugh! that’s too typical!
that’s it, i’m done.
i have no ideas
absolutely none.
it’s too hard to describe
love is just weird
a strange sort of feeling
it reminds me of fear
but not so scary
as to make you avoid
the falling and drowning
into its void
i guess it’s a hug
that best describes love
the length of the sky
navy, vast, above
no, wait that sounds cheesy,
and that’s all i’ve got
oh help ten more days
this is harder than i thought!
how do you describe something
unique as love itself
inside of a card
collecting dust on a shelf
valentine’s day is so overrated
it’s tipping a scale
misfortune’s side weighted
roses are red
and covered in bugs
tell your valentine they’re beautiful
shower them in hugs
however you show them,
in whatever way,
remember there’s only one day a year
to celebrate valentine’s day!
Miranda,
for a person who’s obsessions
are as plentiful as fandoms
there is hardly a word to describe you.
I always have questions
You answer them. Thanks.
I really think explanations are due.
What happened to the hiddles phase
or Orlando Bloom?
or is Benedict still okay for you?
at whatever stage your obsessions take you
Happy Birthday
And may the fandom obsessions be infinite.
Oh goodie a word to describe thee!
Best friend.
By Jesse G.
Hey Commander,
Can you unplug me?
I need to leave this place, be freed.
I’m run with wires
and stationed here
Watching as the world devolves
Please! I just need some privacy
I cannot watch this tragedy
The power’s out, I feel so helpless
Can’t you see?
I’m a hopeless nothing
in the midst of chaos
The world is falling and I’m
stuck here
to watch the downfall
of society
Hey Commander,
Can you unplug me?
I need to find some kind of safehouse
To hide away on this doomsday
from this apocalyptic anarchy.
By Jesse G.
Ode to Miranda
By Marcus H.
Why do I do this?
Every Wednesday,
I trudge through snow,
And cold,
And weird homeless men on the subway,
Silently cursing the state of Ohio
And the Midwest
And hell, Mother Nature herself.
But I still come here.
Every winter Wednesday,
Breathing in frosty flakes
To see you.
And when I finally open the door,
Hearing the beep of the security alarm,
I hear the scratch of chairs
And the ringing of voices
And then I see you
Ode to Ugly
By Marcus H.
Uglyness.
Big nose,
Thin lips,
Bulgy eyes,
And pimply pores.
It is the torn cover
To a best-selling book,
The clearance
To character,
The thrown-out trash
To a treasured take-away.
Being ugly is a flawless flaw,
A disgusting beauty,
And a beautiful disaster
All in itself.
Overweight,
Shrimpy,
Crusty,
Nasty-
Words of hate
Spewn from minds of jealousy,
Hateful of what you have
And what you do not desire-
Envious of the power you hold
In your personality,
So they call out the unchangeable,
The non-removable,
All in hopes of breaking you down
And tearing your confidence out.
The glint of a blade,
The prick of a needle,
The plastic in the doctor’s hand-
Don’t change yourself,
What are you doing?
You’re better than that.
Having small breasts is a plus,
Be glad you have breasts at all.
Be glad you have lips, nose, eyes-
Be glad to be here,
To wake up this morning
With a pulse in your veins,
A beat in your heart,
And a spark in your brain.
And roll your eyes all you want,
You beautiful bastard,
Because what I’m saying is true-
Be proud of you!
Ignore that person with the model face,
Because they might have a McDonald’s personality.
Coffee on the Counter
By Marcus H.
I saw the coffee
When I went for my breakfast.
It sat there, frozen in time,
Like a father who put it down
After checking the time
And realizing he was late for work.
Or like a young yuppie
Sipping his breakfast
Before running into the hustle-and-bustle
Of everyday life.
But no, that’s not what happened
This morning, no sir.
The coffee didn’t come from a father
Because I had no father.
And it definitely didn’t come
From another of mom’s customers,
Because after I heard the thumps of the headboards
And the moans of another disloyal married man
He scurried out, dumping another rubber into the trash can.
Mom stayed in the bedroom, silently screaming
Why she had to do this,
Why dad had to run away,
Why we were broke, why did her son have to see this?
The coffee had to be mom’s,
So it was her final act.
When I saw her body,
Her lifeless arms stretched out towards me,
Almost like she wanted me to slide in her arms
For an eternal, everlasting hug.
I couldn’t do it, sir.
Instead, I walked over her
And sipped at the cold caffeine myself.
Mom hated wasting food.
No, I didn’t hear screams.
I was asleep, officer. I didn’t see a thing.
He must’ve slipped in,
An unhappy customer,
An unpaid pimp,
A drugged crackhead,
And delivered the final blow
To the thin shard of a life I…
We had left.
Good deed gone wrong
By Troye
I look out the window solemnly. The sky is grey and threatens to drench the clothes I just hanged out to dry.
Why did I do that? It’s obviously about to rain…
I sigh.
What an idiot, I think to myself.
I see my neighbor, Miss.Worc, drive up in her small grey smart-car, stepping out and wobbling to the trunk to unload groceries.
I should go help her…
Well, I’ve got nothing else to do.
I spring up from the windowsill and grab my old grey hoodie and black converse, sprinting down the metal steps but pausing at the bottom and slowing down, attempting to look casual.
“Oh hey, Miss.Worc!” I smile, trying to look surprised (but delighted) to see her.
“Oh, hello, Gavin!” She says in her sweet little old lady voice.
“Let me help you with those!” I rush over to where she stands, holding a paper bags full of groceries.
“Oh, thank you, Gavin!”
I take the bag from her frail arms, along with the other two bags in the trunk(except for one small bag of spices that Miss.Worc insists on carrying herself).
I climb up the stairs after the woman, breathing heavily as she goes on about her son’s new (apparently ADORABLE) new dog.
I stop for a second to catch my breath, but accidentally ripping on of the bags in the process.
An assortment of baking supplies (including a carton of milk and a carton of eggs)tumble down the steps.
The other bags also conveniently rip while I turn to look in horror at the falling foods, and an assortment of fruits and vegetables cascade down the steps.
“Whoops…” I say, turning to the old woman.
Death
By Duncan B.
Death. That is what comes to all around me. My name is Light and everyone around me dies. A man named Kira killed them. He is killing a lot of people. Criminals. Thieves. Liars. Kira kills them all. He is evil. I hope he dies. Everyone around me is dead. They were all evil. All criminals. All thieves. All liars. Kira killed them. I feel pain inside. I am a criminal. I am a thief. I am a liar. Kira may kill me next. But he won’t. Because… I am Kira.
A Strange Walk Home
By Duncan
Duncan walked through the streets, coming home from the writing workshop. The rain poured down, soaking and flooding the streets. Duncan turned down an alley, hunching over to shield his face. Suddenly, a female character with long, straight, blood-red hair jumped in front of him. The girl stabbed him with a tranquilizer dart and dragged him away.
Duncan woke up in a warehouse a few hours later. The red-head stood in front of him starring him down. Duncan’s arms were chained to a pull-up bar his back to a wall.
“What do you want from me?” said Duncan, “I’ll do anything, can, can I give you money?!?”
“No.”
Then the red-head lifted up a gun and shot him in the head.
Detention
By Duncan B.
I walk into school. The heated air rushes into my face as I step inside the foreboding building The small children run around like sheeps, little, tiny, two-legged, fast, talking, sheeps.
“Ahh,” I sigh, “another wonderful day in the prison,” I think, “another wonderful class with Mr. Stauntsborough. I wonder who he’ll decide to torture today. I hope with all my living/non-living hearts and lack of soul that he’ll only send 16-19 kids to detention today, (only from 1st period of course).” Me and my inner circle always place bets on how many people he will send to detention each day. We’re five minutes into class and already four people have been sent away.
“Stop right there!” screams Mr. Stauntsborough, pointing and shaking at a student.
“But I didn’t do nothing,” said the student.
“No, but you were going to do something.”
“What?!?”
“Go to detention!”
Another Saturday Morning
By Marcus Harvey
8:36 A.M, Saturday, May 14, 2014.
The phone rang as my brother munched his cereal, watching morning cartoons. I rolled my eyes from my bedroom, pushed the homework aside, and went to answer the handset, brushing past clothes that needed washing and mud tracked from a skateboard to get to the phone.
I forced myself to remember my identity, so I didn’t make a mistake; your name is Erin Lupez. You’re a 16-year-old girl from Charlotte, NC. Your dad’s in the military, so you move around a lot- yes, you’re aware that they can’t find him in military records. He’s a Marine. Yes, you know your mom never answers the phone. Yes, she’ll call you back as soon as she can.
I blinked, picking up the phone, internally ready for whoever wanted to speak- maybe a teacher, a principal, but nothing serious. It was a Saturday morning, nobody important calls on a Saturday. Pushing my dark thoughts aside, my stance became lighter, and I smiled – it was something Erin Lupez would do, if she were a real person.
“Hello?” I perked into the black mouthpiece. Cortez shot up from the couch, spilling his cocoa-colored milk, and I groaned, knowing I’d have to clean it later.
A sigh. “Hello, is there an… um…” a shuffling of papers, followed by a wheezy cough and a pat on the chest, emanated from the handset. “Rosaline Medina at this residence?”
I breathed through the microphone, thinking of how to respond. Cortez, who was now tugging on my sleeve, was insistent that it was his friend John calling, that I should give him the phone- I rolled my eyes and motioned him away, but he clung on. My purple sleeved stretched out to accommodate our situation.
“Wh-Who is this?”
“This is the U.S. Department of Immigration,” the man replied.
I sighed- it was them again. “No, I’m sorry. She’s… ah…” I glanced around quickly at our small, seedy apartment. Rats stared at me through the A/C vents. And then another lie idea popped into my head. “She’s helping your neighbor, um, with a rodent problem next door.”
“Can you grab her? It’s rather urgent.”
“Um… no. You see, they just fumigated the place and went out to eat, I have no way of contacti-“
“I’ll just tell you then, since it seems she’s never available,” the employee tiredly wheezed through the line. “The family’s passports aren’t checking out. There is no Erin Lupez, and no Rosaline Medina.”
“Well, check again.” I swallowed, feeling a lump in my throat. Cortez glared up at me.
“Don’t you think we’ve done that?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe you should call back when you find your voice,” I flared up. The employee sputtered for a second.
“Who do you think you are?”
“I’m a natural American citizen,” I lied, “and I’m tired of the government trying to deport me where I’m running away from?”
Shock. Then silence.
I’d blurted out my secret. After all these years… damn it, I’ve spilled everything.
I huffed, still irate, but as my adrenaline dwindled away, worry and fear began to seep in. I heard frantic scribbling from the other end, then the man maliciously barked out at me, a manic laughter: He’d figured it out.
“Why don’t you let our officer check your quote-on-quote ‘passport’ when he shows up to your house? You little-“
And then I hung up. Cortez stood deathly still as panic set into my body and froze my heart. After a few seconds, I could finally breathe again, finally hear everything around me; finally understand what was going on.
It was over. Everything mom’s tried to do for us- all of it just dumped down the drain in a matter of minutes. I’d ruined everything. I’d disgraced her. My heart leaped out of my chest, and the rats, with their cold eyes, stared at me, as I understood what I had to do- what we had to do again.
We had to run.
I managed to pull Cortez off my sweater. “That wasn’t John, was it?” he asked me, lacking that typical confidence in his voice. I licked my lips, woozy, leaning on the sink.
“Grab the suitcases,” I squeaked out. Cortez put his hands on his hips. His face told me he wasn’t about to budge. I turned my head; I didn’t want to see his face, otherwise I might end up even more concerned.
“I said,” I bit out to through clenched teeth, “get the suitcases-“
“Why?”
I froze and turned to him slowly. His dark, green eyes were now alit with a new light- he was gonna put up a fight, at the worst possible time.
“Now I have to start 4th grade all over again,” he muttered. “I’m so sick of re-learning the solar system.”
“Well, then, act stupid and maybe it won’t be as boring,” I whispered to myself.
“Why are we always moving?” He blurted out. I tried to answer him nicely, but before I could, a scream poured out of my lips.
Picking up a pan, I threw it at the cracked, moldy wall in front of us, and with a loud clatter, the pot dropped to the ground, leaving a greasy remembrance of our family on the wall- the grease I used to fry the bacon this morning with.
“Cortez, I’m so tired of your little shit! You have no fucking idea what me and mom had to go through to get here!” I breathed hard, panting, before turning and punching the glass out of a cabinet. The glass shatters fell to the counter, where Cortez’s report card lay- all B’s, he proudly showed me last night. I turned back, still seeing red. Cortez looked up at me, defiant yet nervous. Didn’t he know I’d never lay a finger on him?
But I pressed on. “You didn’t experience what we went through on that boat. You weren’t even born yet. You know your friend John? He’s a natural citizen. He doesn’t have to RUN, like how we have to. He sits in his fancy kitchen, and eats food we can barely afford, and when he goes on those fancy ass vacations his parents pay for, he pulls out his passport. And do you know what color it is?” I didn’t notice I was crying until I involuntarily wiped the tears out of the corner of my eyes. My hair tickled my face, brown streaks flying in and out of my eyesight.
“It’s blue,” I whispered, closing my eyes and letting my head fall back in frustration after Cortez couldn’t answer. “You know what color ours is?”
“Mine’s blue,” he said, looking down, fiddling with his hands. I stared at the popcorn ceiling, and I realized my error- I forgot he was born here.
He was a natural. I wasn’t.
He didn’t have to run.
“What color,” I probed, “is mine? Mom’s?”
Cortez shrank back. He didn’t want to answer, but he finally murmured, “Green.”
A silence fell over us. I barely remember drinking a cup of water, wiping the sweat off of my face, and crying. When my vision cleared, my face was stiff with salty tears drying out onto my face.
“Get the suitcases,” I managed to spurt out through my hazy anxiety. He looked up at me defiantly, but the fire in my eyes shut him up and he ran to the back room. I glanced back at the picture that hung in the dining room- more like the stolen-picnic-table-and-pullout-chairs room.
Mom smiled back me, eight years ago, unaware of what the future would hold, unaware of the tears she poured when she first touched land in Texas, and she bent over and kissed the soil.
Unaware that her family would keep running east until now, when we realized we couldn’t run any further. Unaware she’d become a hooker, walking down the street in a way-too-tight dress because it made her ass look tighter and her boobs would fit so uncomfortably in them she had to rip the bust, making them look that much larger. Smiling when a greasy, fat old man slipped money into her pocket and led her to the hotel she usually frequented.
Unaware one of those men would stab her and leave her in the hotel for dead, and unaware I’d have to pack her body into a Hefty bag and throw it over a rocky cliff overlooking a city a few miles out of Myrtle Beach, because if someone found her body, oh, that would make running that much harder. I remembered grabbing Cortez’s hand as he waited by the hotel sidewalk, playing with his trucks, and with no time to grab our suitcases, ran until we could find the same man who’d taken us to this land which we thought would have the best opportunities for us, but what ended up being the demise of our household.
Hell, Dad had died in the War on Drugs bullshit the Mexican prime minister swore by, but didn’t give a shit about. Uncle died when the police burst into his Texas ranch house and demanded to know where we were, and was shot when he moved toward a gun in the kitchen. And I even watched one of my friends die, when she caught me in the lies I spilled out, and I had to hire a hitman to kill her so I could stay in New Orleans, before we just ended running again. My mind flashed back to the only boyfriend I had time to date, in 8th grade- Reagan. He’d always greeted me at school with a smile and I kiss on my cheek. When I ran, he tried calling me. He left me dozens of voicemails, and I refused to even answer them. I was afraid I’d end up calling him, and then he’d know.
He’d know I was dirty, and I wasn’t from here. Eventually, I had to snap in half and throw away the SIM card and buy another one at a seedy gas station.
Cortez pulled the suitcases out of the closet, and sniffed before looking at me.
“You ready?” I coughed out. Cortez huffed, refusing to speak to me. I opened the door for him, and he pulled his Spider-Man carry-on out, before turning to me.
“Can I say bye to Joh-“
“No.” I pulled the old, rotty Goodwill-gold that is my suitcase out, with just enough clothes to last me two weeks. I grabbed the Ziploc’s with travel toiletries. Two bottles of water, three Lunchables, two cans of chicken noodle soup, and one banana were stuffed into a tote bag.
We looked homeless, but more than that, we looked like natural citizens. If we had clean clothes on, shiny hair, and bright smiles, we’d definitely look fake, unnatural, like we didn’t belong there. While smearing dust on Cortez’s face, I mentally closed the door on another chapter in our life. I looked at the paper map in my hands.
“Where are we going now, Raina?” Cortez looked up at me.
“Don’t call me that,” I hissed. He looked down again, fiddling with his fingers. I bent down and hugged him. He didn’t hug me back.
“Atlanta,” I answered him. He shrugged. “Oh, come on, it’s only a little way west from Charlotte.”
“Whatever. I won’t like it anyways. John won’t be there.”
I closed the door- this time, the physical one.
A Date with Death
By Miranda Wyse
I ran down the hallway. My breathing was labored and very heavy. Something was growling behind me, but I couldn’t see it. I didn’t know if I was in a nightmare or not. All I did was keep running. I had watched whatever was chasing me kill my parents.
Get to Suvedini’s room. I have to save my sister. I thought to myself as my lungs began to burn from exhaustion. I may be a cross country runner, but it didn’t take much to set my lungs on fire.
I bust into my sister’s room, panting as I shut the door behind me. Locking out whatever was chasing me. I went over to Suvedini’s bed and shook her awake. She was a heavy sleeper, so I picked her up after a few minutes. A loud bang at the door made me move much, much faster. I opened the window in her room and jumped out of the window, landing on my ankle. Pain shooting through my foot as I kept running.
~
“Jakob! Jakob wake up! You’re having the nightmare again.” Suvedini shook me awake and I looked around the dingy bunker bedroom.
After that night Suvedini and I were on our own. I was 15 and she was barely 10 at the time and we had to fend for ourselves. Yet, a month later, a pair of brothers offered to help us find the monster that took our parents. I was weary at first of the strangers, but Suvedini has this intuition about her and trusted them wholeheartedly, so I followed.
Now we live in a bunker with the two brothers. A tall moose named Sam, who Suvedini favoured, was the nicer one out of the two. Then there was his older brother Dean, who I liked better. He understood that good music was life. Although, I preferred My Chemical Romance over Led Zeppelin.
“How’d you know?” I asked her and she shrugged.
“You get one every night. That and I got it too.”
“You did? How?” I asked.
“I just did.” Suvedini tapped her head and I smiled, pulling her down to my chest, feeling the warmth of her body against mine.
“That night is my burden to bear. You shouldn’t have to bear it too.” I whispered.
“I was there too. It’s as much a burden to me as it is to you Jakob.” Suvedini whispered, making me realize that she was wiser than me. She seemed more like a thirty year old then a fourteen year old.
“But you barely remember that night because you were asleep until I woke you up at the corner of our street. It never was your burden to bear.” I whisper-yelled, my mom’s Australian accent making the words I said that much scarier.
~
The next morning, I went to go train with Dean in the bunker’s own weight room. I knew that today would be the day that I, Jakob Coleman, would finish my training with one last hand-to-hand combat lesson. After this lesson, I will go train with Sam in the boring art of lore and research. I am almost a ‘certified’ hunter. Dean said the lore and research part wouldn’t take long as you could call on other hunters for that kind of stuff. Like they used to call on their Uncle Bobby. Dean said we could call them when we get out into the world. But, most of the time they would probably be dead, so they said to callon Charlie Bradbury. I had seen pictures of her and she was cute, but they said she was a lesbian. Shot down from the start.
Anyway, I got up and pulled on a Targeryen tee shirt and a pair of Stark sweatpants, both houses in Game of Thrones, if you should ask. I pulled my shoulder length, shiny, black hair into a bun and flexed my huge muscles in the small mirror that hung in the bathroom Suvedini and I shared.
After that I walked the long winding halls of the bunker down to the weight room which acted as a small training unit for my sister and I. Well, for now, just myself and Dean. Dean was already standing there when I walked into the dusty room.
The weight room had twenty foot high ceilings, an obstacle course running throughout the entire room. There was a small gymnastics set up in the corner of the room, which Dean never went to, but when he left I went over to it and relieved my old days as an award winning gymnast. It was easy to feel small and powerless in this room, but when you’ve been training in the same room for two years it seemed small. I knew every crack and splinter this room had to offer.
“Ready for our last training session?” Dean asked when i was within earshot of him.
“I’m ready.” I sighed. Dean nodded to the start of the obstacle course, a set of monkey bars, raised ten feet off the ground. At six foot six, I had a small advantage against the six foot Dean Winchester, but he was smaller and quicker from years of hunting.
“Ready?” Deam asked giving me his famous smirk.
“Set?”
“GO!” We screamed together jumping up to reach the small, rusty bars of the twenty foot monkey bars.
Suvedini’s POV
When I awoke, Jakob was gone and I had an appointment with Sam Winchester, the sweet, gentle, amazing, handsome moose. I don’t know how he got the nickname moose, but I liked it all the same. Then again, I had a huge crush on the thirty something year old man when I was fourteen going on fifteen.
I got dressed in an old pair of blue jeans that were more silver after years of abuse. I put on a black Metallica tank top and pulled my blonde hair into short ponytail as it barely scraped my shoulders. As I looked in the mirror I realized Jakob and I were extremely different.
~
I’m Sam and he’s Dean. He’s loud, I’m quiet. He’s tough and I’m bookish. I am the younger one, he’s older. He likes My Chemical Romance, I like Taylor Swift before she tried to go all pop queen. I had blonde hair, he had black. He was human, I was half angel. He had gold eyes, I had bright red eyes. I had shark teeth, his teeth were normal. He was a brawn type of person, I was obviously the brains. If I wasn’t he would have died by now. They had always been, until a kid called out our homeless looks a year after our parents died.I was almost killed as a baby and he wasn’t. I am bound to become like Sam, a person who will get addicted to demon’s blood and go on a psychopathic rage and Jakob was and always will be the perfect child. I was a monster sent from the depths of Hell and Jakob was an angel sent from Heaven. We couldn’t be more of a Yin and Yang pair. But Yin and Yang had one thing I don’t have with my brother, the good in the bad and the bad in the good. I loved my brother, but our relationship is going to end up like Sam and Dean’s. Broken, sad, and built on lies and deceit. Jakob promised that that would not happen, but I knew it eventually would. it would happen one day. Not today, but maybe ten years in the future, twenty. Maybe when we are in our own personal Hell. But, we will be changed by the job that Jakob decided that we should take on. A decision I had no choice in, much like Sam. Well, not really. Jessica Moore, his last girlfriend died and that’s what kind of sent him off into a frenzy. That sent him on a hunt for yellow-eyes, who the boys eventually killed. I wished I wasn’t born, so I wouldn’t’ve put Jakob into this situation. Yet, here I am.
“Suvedini!” You ready for your last lore lesson?” Sam snapped me out of my inner monologue and back to reality.
“AS I’ll ever be. What’s the test this time?” I asked. For the past week Sam has been testing me on all sorts of things, werewolves, vampires, ghosts and even a wendigo case. That last one was really, really fun to do because it was a case file on Sam and Dean.
“It’s yourself. I will ask questions and you must answer as truthfully as possible, alright?” Sam asked.
“That’s the test? Alright, shoot.” I replied.
“Favorite book series?”
“A Song of Ice and Fire.” I shoot up and stared into Sam’s eyes as I took a seat, he took one across from me.
“Favorite actor at this point in time?”
“Richard Madden.”
“Favorite band?”
“Five Seconds of Summer.”
“Favorite artist?”
“Zendaya.”
“Favorite movie of all time?”
“Troy.”
“What did you want to be when you grew up?”
“An author, not a hunter.”
“What’s your full name?”
“Suvedini Targeryen ‘Kit’ Coleman”
“Favorite book character?”
“Hermione Granger from the Harry Potter series.” I kept staring at the moose, my eyes unmoving from his.
“Quote?”
“‘Fear cuts deeper than swords’ from A Game of Thrones.” I answered.
Jakob’s POV
“I won, fair and square.” I said after the fifth time on the obstacle course. My hands were covered in rust and my entire body was sticky with sweat.
“Okay. Have fun with Sam tomorrow. You’ve been like a brother to me, ya know. You’ve been fun to have around. You know I don’t like chick-flick moments, but I feel like I’ve raised you. I may actually have and it’s not an easy life, you know? You did what was best for your sister and you gave her a childhood, just like I did with Sammy. We older siblings have this ‘protect and serve’ code, don’t we? We gotta keep the innocence of our younger siblings, no matter what it takes. even if that means dying a few times in the process. I love dear old Sammy and I can see that you love your sister. I can see why you became what you have become. Don’t let this job tear you down. Yeah, you’ll cry a little bit. You lose the people you love, you see things that no person should see and it’s heartbreaking. Just protect the innocent at all costs.. That’s all I’m asking of you. That’s all.”
Suvedini’s POV
“Your brother is here to protect you and this life isn’t the apple pie life. Once your brother joined, you both forsook the normal life. You will never have a family. No husband, no wife, no children, no legacy. You don’t see a lot of hunter’s working together, sibling duos are a real rarity. Pass on this to other hunters when you run into them, or maybe even train them. ‘Start by doing what’s necessary; then do what’s possible; and suddenly you are doing the impossible’” Sam spoke softly as if he didn’t even want me to hear it.
Jakob’s POV
Days later, Suvedini and I were asked if we wanted to come along on a hunt with the brothers. Just a simple spirit. Nothing major or hard. Just a novice job. Nothing really special.
“You ready for our first hunt?” I asked Suvedini, zipping up my duffel bag.
“As I’ll ever be. So, how do you like Sam as a teacher?” Suvedini asked me and I shrugged.
“Worse than squirrel. At least I had fun with Dean. Sam is a bore.” I explained. The lore wasn’t sticking.
“Well, Dean isn’t a charmer either. I hate all the pushups that he’s making me do. My arms hurt.” Suvedini frowned and looked away from me, packing one last book.
“I don’t know, maybe you’ll develop a crush on someone who is completely different than you. You know how the saying goes-’
“Shut up!” Suvedini yelled and I jumped back. Her shark teeth really scared me. She teleported out and I was left to walk out of the room to the car alone.
~
The hunt was underway. We had split up into teams, Dean and I. Then Sam and Suvedini. The ghost was upper vengeful and really pissed. We had already hit it with rock salt bullets and it had disappeared. Everyone was on our highest alert. We didn’t want to get hurt by a ghost.
The house was falling apart. It was an 1800s Victorian house. Haunted by a burned witch. Who looked nasty. Her skin was falling off and you could see bone under her cheekbones. The wood was decaying and we had to be careful of where we tred. I almost fell twice, but I wasn’t used to hunting, so I stayed by Dean the entire time.
“Keep moving.” Dean whispered as we stayed on alert until we heard a high pitched scream come from the other side of the house.
“SUVEDINI!” I screamed running out of the room we were in towards Suvedini’s scream, but by the time I got there, she was already dying.
“No, no, no.” I propped her head against my body and watched as her blood pooled onto the floor underneath her.
Suvedini’s POV
“I’m Sam and your Dean. Your loud, I’m quiet. Your tough and I’m bookish. I am the younger one, you’re older. You like My Chemical Romance, I like Taylor Swift before she tried to go all pop queen. I had blonde hair, you have black. You were human, I was half angel. You have gold eyes, I had bright red eyes. I had shark teeth, your teeth are normal. You are a brawn type of person, I was obviously the brains. If I wasn’t he would have died by now. They had always been, until a kid called out our homeless looks a year after our parents died. I was almost killed as a baby and he wasn’t. I am bound to become like Sam, a person who will get addicted to demon’s blood and go on a psychopathic rage and Jakob was and always will be the perfect child. I was a monster sent from the depths of Hell and Jakob was an angel sent from Heaven. We couldn’t be more of a Yin and Yang pair. But Yin and Yang had one thing I don’t have ith my brother, the good in the bad and the bad in the good. I loved my brother, but our relationship is going to end up like Sam and Dean’s. Broken, sad, and built on lies and deceit. Jakob promised that that would not happen, but I knew it eventually would. it would happen one day. Not today, but maybe ten years in the future, twenty. Maybe when we are in our own personal Hell. But, we will be changed by the job that Jakob decided that we should take on. A decision I had no choice in, much like Sam.” i said, my voice giving out on me at points. I was hit by the ghost and my guts were being twisted. I was bleeding out. Jakob weakly smiled down at me, his eyes welling up with tears. I was fading. Everything was fading.
Jakob’s POV
“Winter is coming.” She whispered, finally fading after thirty minutes of dying.
~
“Salt and burn, a hunter’s burial.” I said looking up at the burning house.